


green.

by oiru



Series: honey and love songs. [5]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Fluff, M/M, i still don't know how do i tag these
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 20:47:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16920114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiru/pseuds/oiru
Summary: white lilies, meteor showers and marigolds.





	green.

tyler says that josh's hair looks and tastes like seafoam, and his voice in this time of year really sound like passionate wind-song in the pines.  
josh tells him his voice sounds like sad hymns of the sea.

green days are spent wondering if it was painful when the sky had stars sewn into it. wondering if the pain was worth it. cactus spines stuck underneath skin when tyler tried to drink the water. he is walking the precipice, one foot in the real world and one stuck in dreams. he is an inventor these days, writing fables for a childhood he can’t remember.

_say autumn_  
_say autumn despite the green in your hair._

***

last time tyler saw josh, he had lightning hidden beneath his tongue. he was a sculpture carved out of sugar and if tyler tried to touch him, he would have broken apart between his own fingers. a butterfly landed in the palm of josh's hand and tyler swore to god its fluttering wings matched his hammering heart. at the sound of this voice tyler  
turns into a snake shedding its skin. that smile could have been a wildfire. could have burned it all down.  
tyler says he would've watched from the window, just happy to see the colors.

tyler says,

_— don’t let those voices in your head drown out my lullabies._  
_just tell me to sing louder. they won’t get you tonight._

that darkness outside isn’t a match for the flames between josh's teeth. tyler knows his voice is softer than velvet but he's got bees buzzing under his skin. tyler tells him no to let the blood boil over. to keep it in veins. josh's got a  
home in his own body and tyler is just grateful to know which rock he hides the spare key under. he tells josh he ought to be careful walking these streets at night because he's got the moon where his irises should be and people around here will try to snuff out the light.  
tyler says he will take this knife to his tongue because he couldn’t even bleed out words half as beautiful as josh.

***

josh ate butterflies for breakfast because he said he wanted to know what tyler's anxiety felt like and he told josh that he didn’t want sympathy, he wanted to be able to throw up the wings. josh said maybe tyler had flowers growing in his stomach and that he should be happy that at least the bees hadn’t stung their way through his skin. josh convinced tyler that his veins were laced with pollen and that sometimes blooming had to be painful because you were breaking your roots.

josh told him about how he swallowed too many watermelon seeds when he was a kid and he didn’t spit out the sunflower seeds so he was always worried that the neighborhood birds would end up trying to peck him to death. there’s no vines growing in josh's stomach now but that’s never stopped him from talking to pigeons like he is speaking a secret language. tyler thinks they both have a fascination with wings and sometimes at night he touches josh's shoulder blades and tells him that his would have been the color of ivory with green tips and dots in the dead center that are as black as bird’s eyes.

they turn it into a game.

some days tyler's are lighter than lavender, throbbing and pulsing with a cotton candy pink. other days they’re a dark blue, clouding up with grey around the edges. josh's always stay consistent, ivory, laced in gold.

***

josh says _someday maybe the stars will align just right_ , and all tyler can think about is birds falling from the sky.  
watching their wings give out mid-flight and the way they spiral out of control. and he thinks he could relate:  
hummingbird heartbeat. josh says his name and suddenly the whole sky’s talking. not just the birds — even the stars lit themselves on fire for them. sunflowers grew through the frost, wrapped their stems around tyler's body. he is writing about light again. carrying hope around in his back pocket. resuscitating every broken-necked blackbird.

josh says,

_— i think they could name new constellations after us._

this time tyler doesn't say anything.


End file.
